


The Ghostly Inn

by addledwalrus



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1920s, 1990s, Action, Asian Character(s), Awkward Tension, Awkwardness, Bad Decisions, Bilingual Character(s), Breaking and Entering, British Character, British Female Character, Bugs & Insects, Character Death, Chinese Character, Chinese Food, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Crushes, Cultural Differences, Cultural References, Culture Shock, Dialect, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Drunkenness, Embarrassment, Ethnocentrism, Explicit Language, Family, Fear, Female Characters, First Love, Food, Gen, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Historical References, Hong Kong, Horror, Humiliation, Humor, Karaoke, Language Barrier, Love Confessions, Male Character of Color, Male Protagonist, Misunderstandings, Modern Era, Murder, Music, Mutually Unrequited, Mystery, Original Character(s), Panic, Parent-Child Relationship, Parody, Past Lives, Period-Typical Racism, Phobias, Police, Pop Culture, Racism, Racist Language, Regret, Reincarnation, Religious Content, Secret Crush, Self-Defense, Shame, Shyness, Singing, Situational Humiliation, Sleepwalking, Spirits, Supernatural Elements, Teen Crush, Teenagers, Television Watching, Travel, Violence, Visions in dreams, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:52:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addledwalrus/pseuds/addledwalrus
Summary: A teenager with the ability to see ghosts, meets a woman whom he knew in a past life. A parody of  my favorite Hong Kong films that contains some explicit language and period-typical racism.





	1. Chapter 1

**Kowloon, Hong Kong, 1927**

"So,  _this_  is where we're staying?" Gwendoline asked in dismay upon climbing down from the rickshaw and taking some time to observe the large but modest inn located in the more reputable part of the city. "Couldn't you have found a grander place?"

"I know it may not look like much, kitten..." Wallace spoke softly in reassurance while getting close enough to touch his girlfriend's rouged right cheek. "But I assure you that we won't have to put up with too many Chinamen here..."

Gwendoline paused to look back up at the building, then allowed herself a demure smile of relief.

"Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't seem so bad..."

She followed Wallace toward the main entrance and tried her best not to pay heed to the natives speaking in their cacophonic language, even if such sounds made her want to beat them all into complete silence.

_"As if it weren't just enough for them to look like apes... their language sounds like absolute filth. What I wouldn't give to be back in London by next month..."_

Wallace guided her inside to the lobby where a wizened old Chinese man with graying hair stood behind the reception desk. Gwendoline avoided eye contact while telling herself that all the posters she'd seen in the past were in fact an accurate depiction of the people.

It therefore came as a surprise when the elderly concierge began to speak to Wallace and proved himself to have a decent command of English.

A young bellhop approached them immediately after their room had been booked. He smiled politely and gave a little bow before asking with some difficulty which one of them wished to have their luggage taken first.

"Help the lady first." Wallace commanded the bellhop firmly, gesturing at Gwendoline for emphasis. "I have business to attend to."

Gwendoline opened her mouth to protest, but the bellhop was pulling at the handle of her suitcase before she could react. She let go rather reluctantly and gave Wallace a look of disbelief before pursuing the boy.

She caught up to him with little effort and demanded that he hand the suitcase back. He regarded her with confusion for a moment before obeying, much to her satisfaction.

"Thank you. I knew you had some sense."

The boy nodded, then focused solely on showing her to the right room. It was located on the top floor and upon arriving, Gwendoline tapped her foot impatiently while awaiting him to hand over the key.

"Tip first." The boy requested, holding out his open palm.

"I don't have any money on me. You'll have to ask my-"

He paused to comprehend her words before speaking again.

"Ah, alright. I understand..."

He gave her the key to the room and she took it in gratitude. She turned around to unlock the door and some unexpected words prompted her to smile despite everything she'd experienced up until then.

"You... you look very nice. Like movie star..."

* * *

**Kowloon, Hong Kong, 1997**

It was Peter Tsui's turn to sing and despite his misgivings, he just couldn't pass it up when the lovely Jillian Kwok was sitting pretty with her friends whilst gazing straight at him.

He looked at her smiling face then back at the glowing blue screen. He needed to pick something special if he was to drop a hint and the perfect song through which he could show off his fluency in English presented itself.

_"I'll Never Break Your Heart by The Backstreet Boys, here we go..."_

The opening instrumental began, and Peter grabbed the microphone while taking a deep breath to ready himself.

"I dedicate this to somebody special. Hopefully, you'll know who you are..."

He started singing and anxiously made eye contact with Jillian to observe her reaction.

It was clear from her unchanging expression that she was completely oblivious to the message he was trying to send, something which would have been bearable if it weren't for the fact that her friends were clearly catching on.

His palms got sweaty as he imagined the thoughts going through their heads.

_"She's too pretty for you."_

_"You're an idiot who is just making a fool of himself."_

_"Stop torturing us with your shitty singing."_

Peter's voice faltered, and he dropped the microphone in sheer embarrassment. He immediately knelt to pick it back up and by the time he was standing again, it seemed too late to undo the consequences of his stupidity.

Cecilia turned to whisper cattily to Vicki while shifting her eyes toward him. Paranoia fell heavily upon him and without much further thought, he returned the microphone to its stand before dashing straight out of the room.

* * *

The reason Peter's parents gave for living in a high-rise apartment when they could buy a house anywhere, was that as a young child, he'd often screamed in the night upon seeing sinister apparitions hovering over his bed.

A Taoist priest had confirmed their suspicions that a ghost was targeting him specifically and unwilling to take any chances, they'd moved out as soon possible.

Peter could barely remember the things that had happened when he was a three-year-old, though the fact that he did in fact see otherworldly beings from time to time lent credibility to his parents' explanation.

He knew that telling them about this so-called ability would give them both heart-attacks, so he kept it to himself while doing his best to enjoy being a normal teenager.

As such, he ignored the man in Qing Dynasty attire floating outside the window in lieu of trying to enjoy a sitcom with his parents on Friday night. He forced himself to laugh along with them, even as loud knocking began to sound, and the ghost's reflection became rather visible on the television screen.

 _"Go away please...my throat is getting sore..."_  He thought frantically before coughing loudly from the strain of faking amusement.

* * *

A century-old inn that had closed sometime in the 1970s was situated a block away from the apartment building and Peter passed by it each weekday on his way to school.

He'd always felt that the place had an ominous air surrounding it, though now that rumors were circulating about plans to demolish the establishment and build another apartment in its place, something was making him even more uneasy.

The feeling only grew stronger each night following the events of July until Peter swore that the inn itself was calling out to him.

He tried to block out the disturbance by covering both ears with his pillow, shutting his eyes and thinking of Jillian Kwok instead.

To his horror however, her face distorted and reformed into that of a young Caucasian woman whom he had never met before.

 _"Pak Hei..."_ She whispered softly, addressing him by his Cantonese name.  _"I know you are out there. Please come back and visit me..."_

_"Get out! I don't know who you are!"_

The woman's face immediately faded, and Jillian returned. Peter let go of his pillow and gave a heavy sigh of relief before rubbing his tired eyes.

_"Good riddance. Now I can get some sleep..."_

* * *

A rough nudge against his shoulder was what roused Peter the next morning and he lazily opened both eyes to find in surprise that the person before him wasn't his mother. It was Mrs Yuen, a seafood vendor who lived somewhere down the street.

"Get up, young man!" She cried out with more annoyance than sympathy. "I'll report you to the police if you resist!"

"What?"

"Public indecency! Nobody wants to see you in your pajamas!"

"Alright! Stop poking me!" Peter yelled back, losing his composure. He shoved her hand away and got to his feet, at which point he realized where he was.

He turned his head slowly around to gape at the abandoned inn, as numerous questions arose concerning how he'd ended up here.

The only way it could have been remotely possible was if somehow in his sleep, he'd crept past his parents' room without waking them, found the apartment key, unlocked the door, used the elevator and crossed the street without getting hit by early morning traffic.

 _"I see that you're trying to kill me now..."_  He thought defiantly as a frown formed upon his face.  _"Well, I won't give you that satisfaction. I'm coming over tomorrow night to confront you myself!"_

* * *

Walking on the street late at night with a baseball bat sticking out of his schoolbag was enough to attract suspicious looks from everyone who passed him by, but Peter knew that he had to follow through with his plan if he wished to sleep safely again.

Among the other items he'd packed were a paper bag filled with uncooked rice, a water gun and a torch, the first two of which were quite useless according to the laws apparent in movies, but one could never be sure.

It was fortunate that nobody dared to hang around the inn for too long now that it was awaiting demolition. Peter took a deep breath before lifting the yellow tape surrounding the front of the building and ducking underneath it.

_"Hope Mom and Dad will find that note I left..."_

Entering through the inn's main entrance seemed far too risky, so he went searching for another way in. A window low enough for him to climb through caught his attention and he got to work trying to force it open.

It didn't budge no matter how hard he pushed. He stepped back with a tired sigh and decided it was time to resort to more drastic measures.

_"This place is going to be destroyed anyway..."_

He pulled the baseball bat out of his bag and swung it straight at the window. The glass shattered upon impact and he used the bat to sweep away the remaining shards before carefully lifting one leg.

* * *

Shining his torch around proved that the area he had just entered was the kitchen. The smell of rusting electrical appliances and air that had been trapped for over twenty years made him feel nauseous, and a rat suddenly scurrying across the floor prompted him to move along faster.

The atmosphere of the inn changed almost instantaneously when he pushed through the heavy kitchen doors and tiptoed into the dining hall. Where he had been expecting to see tacky 1970s style decor, lay instead elegant furnishings that seemed to be reminiscent of the early-twentieth century.

A chandelier swung back and forth with an audible creak. Peter looked up and several flames burst into life, taking him completely by surprise as the room lit up to its former glory.

 _"Is...is that hot pot I smell?"_ He thought as his focus shifted toward a steaming dish resting on one of the tables.

His mouth watered a little as he approached and lifted the lid, despite common sense telling him that this was too good to be true.

Sure enough, the pot turned out to be filled with countless live scorpions. He dropped the lid with a scream and retreated as far as he could, but it was too late. A couple of the horrible creatures had already made their way out.

"Shit!" He cried out while they scurried rapidly over the varnished floor. "Fuck!"

He turned to run back the way he'd come, only to freeze upon finding himself face-to-face with a familiar Caucasian woman.

"Pak Hei, you've finally returned..."

Peter began to reach for his baseball bat.


	2. Chapter 2

"How do you know my name?!" Peter cried out while stepping back and swinging his bat threateningly at the woman. "Who are you?!"

The woman did not flinch at his attempt to be intimidating and once again closed the distance between them by gliding forward a few inches.

"Don't you remember me? I'm Gwen and you're Pak Hei. We were friends..."

"What?"

Gwendoline came to a stop as Peter lowered the bat. They studied each other's faces and he soon noticed the ligature marks on her neck. That, along with her bobbed hair and flowing white nightdress, made it clear what he was dealing with.

"You're a ghost..."

"Yes, I know." Gwendoline replied, frowning in disbelief upon hearing him state the obvious.

"...I'm not finished. You're clearly a foreigner. How did you die here?"

"That's...that's why I've been looking for you. You're the only one who can really help me out..."

She reached out to grab his hand, only for it to pass right through and cause Peter to feel a paralyzing chill run up his arm. He stared at her in uncertainty.

"Help you? How?"

"You'll only understand if I start from the beginning..." She said quietly while making her way to one of the dining tables and pulling out a chair. "Are you willing to sit down with me and hear everything?"

Peter clutched the handle of his bat tightly and considered the likelihood that his parents were still fast asleep in the apartment. He checked his watch to find that the time was five past eleven.

"Okay, but I can't stay here too long. Will an hour be enough?"

"Yes. That amount of time should suffice."

Gwendoline sat down and waited for him to do the same before she cleared her throat. He found himself staring once again at where her marks were located and wondered if she found it painful to speak.

_"I guess not. She doesn't have flesh or blood..."_

"I...I was born in London in 1906. I was what my parents called a 'difficult child' and they didn't understand me any better when I grew up..."

She placed a hand up to her eye as if wiping away a tear, though it were physically impossible for a ghost to cry. Peter began to feel a little bit of sympathy for her while trying to imagine the sort of upbringing she may have had.

"My father used to tell me I'd be lucky if I ended up in a whorehouse. I proved him wrong when I met Wallace at age nineteen..."

* * *

"...He came into our room that night, drunker than I'd ever seen him before. I had a feeling something was wrong from the look in his eyes but I was too afraid to ask..."

Peter was now leaning on the edge of his seat, for hearing about how Gwendoline and the bellhop had become friends now left him fearing the worst sort of ending.

"He must have thought we were closer than we really were, because..."

"Wait?! What do you mean, 'we'?" Peter spoke up in alarm as soon as he realized her choice of English pronouns.

"You are him, aren't you?" Gwendoline firmly insisted. "You have his name, face and voice..."

"Maybe..." Peter said in response. "But there are a billion people in the Mainland and six million of us here. Of course there would be someone with the same name as me..."

"But you look just like him! And it's been exactly seventy years!"

He found it hard to think of a convincing argument for such a claim and decided to just attribute it to coincidence.

"Yes, well, that's possible too..."

Gwendoline lowered her head in despair.

"So you don't remember anything? Nothing at all?"

"As far as I can recall, I've never been anyone else..."

She stared straight into his eyes and paused for a few seconds before speaking again.

"But you can see me. That must mean something..."

Peter was at a loss of words. Surely, fate was only something the superstitious or naive believed in? He decided that letting Gwendoline continue her story would provide the best chance for him to understand his place in this strange business.

"I...I guess it does. Is there more you want to tell me about that night?"

"Yes. Where was I?" Gwendoline replied with some hesitation. "Wallace was drunk and acting strange. He looked at me like he wanted to play some horrible game and started bragging about... about how..."

"What happened? Go on..."

"About how he'd just killed a Chinaman."

Peter immediately regretted asking as his stomach began to feel heavy.

"I...I called him a liar before he grabbed me and swore to God that it was true. I tried to break away, but he pinned me down against the bed and the next thing I knew, his hands were around my neck..."

"So he strangled you?"

"It wasn't just that. He accused me of being a race traitor and told me I didn't deserve to live in this world... it was like listening to my father all over again."

Gwendoline's hand shifted up to her neck in a desperate attempt to conceal the mark of her violent death and Peter stood up without much thought.

"No, don't hide it!"

"Why not? I'm the one to blame for what happened to us. It's only fair that I should be ashamed..."

"You're wrong. It wasn't your fault at all."

"It was. You stopped visiting me because you were afraid, and I only responded by tracking you down myself..."

"Hey, listen. I don't care what happened to me in another life..." Peter argued as he glanced down at his watch to discover that it was almost midnight. "I wouldn't trade this one for another. For that, I have to be grateful..."

"So you'll forgive me? Is that what you're saying?"

"Forgive you?" He questioned in surprise. "O-Of course I do. Blame Wallace, not yourself."

"How...how could I? He was-"

"Not a good person. No man should kill his girlfriend because of that..."

"Then...what would you have done if you were in his shoes?"

"I..." Peter began to answer reluctantly as he thought of his classmate Jillian Kwok. "I think I would ask her why..."

Gwendoline gave a sniff.

"Wallace never gave me a chance to explain myself. I guess that was what really plagued me all these years..."

"So, does this mean you can move on now?"

"Not yet." She replied, her voice reverting to it's previous lilt. "There's another thing I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

"He...he hid my body underneath some floorboards afterwards and left here to save his own skin. If you can, find what's left of me and see to it that I get a proper burial."

Fulfilling such a request was beyond Peter's ability and despite the guilt it gave him, he had to decline.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can. If someone like me came forward with a skeleton, it would be suspicious. And everyone would think I was crazy."

"Alright, well I understand..." Gwendoline said in resignation, before leaving her chair and gliding back toward the door. "Thank you for your time..."

"Oh, one more thing!" Peter called out after her. She came to a stop and turned to look at him again.

"Do tell."

"This place is going to be demolished soon. I don't want you to be homeless."

Gwen smirked knowingly, then vanished into thin air. Peter blinked and couldn't help but stare at the empty doorway for the next minute or so.

His sense of urgency eventually returned and he grabbed the baseball bat while preparing to make the journey back to the apartment.

Little did he know, his parents had become aware that something was wrong mere minutes after he'd left and disregarding his note, called the police when none of their acquaintances seemed to know where he was.

* * *

As if being unable to fall asleep on a summer's night weren't bad enough for Jillian Kwok, she knew that leaving the safety of her mosquito net fortified bed would mean having her flawless skin ruined and possibly contracting a horrible disease.

Because of this, she could do little but lie uncomfortably and stare at the wall while doing her best to ignore the obnoxious buzzing a few feet away. She always wondered how her parents could put up with such annoyances and as usual, attributed it their rural upbringings in Guangdong province.

The faint sound of pop music drifting in through the open window led her to assume that some people were having a party next door. It reminded her of how she'd gone to a karaoke bar with friends one weekend in May.

It had taken all of her self-control to not become completely flustered at having to sit next to the handsome but reserved Peter Tsui on the bus, something which didn't fail to amuse the others even as they got off and made their way into the building.

He had shown an unexpected side when it was his turn to sing and at the time, she'd believed it was her own wishful thinking that had made it briefly seem like his words and lingering gaze were directed solely at her.

 _"I'm so stupid..."_ She bemoaned in her mind.  _"Why would he be interested in me and not someone else? Other girls are prettier..."_

She shifted into a more comfortable position before continuing to belittle herself.

_"He must have been looking at Cecilia or Vicki. We were sitting close together..."_

She heard the phone ring in the kitchen but decided to let her father be the one to answer it. The conversation soon sounded loud and clear through two walls and a door while she sat up to listen.

"What's that you say?! You think he's gone missing?!"

_"Yes! The only thing he left us was a note!"_

"Well, he definitely isn't here! Try asking someone else!"

_"We already have! We're calling the police next!"_

"Best of luck, then! I hope you find him soon!

_"Thank you! We can't bear to lose our Pak Hei!"_

Jillian felt an unfathomable sense of dread upon hearing the name. She remembered how Peter had become too embarrassed to continue halfway through his song and ran out of the room as a result. Perhaps the shame from such an incident had been so bad that he'd decided to end his own life rather than suffer.

_"Wherever you are, please stop and think again. There are people who would be hurt forever if you..."_

She burst into tears and assumed a fetal position in an attempt to compose herself.

* * *

Peter trudged out of the elevator at a quarter to one in the morning and walked through the corridor before coming to an abrupt stop. A policeman was standing right by the entrance to the apartment and trying hard to calm down his hysterical parents.

_"I was only gone for two hours. Why do they have to overreact to everything?"_

The policeman heard his footsteps and slowly turned to face him in confusion. His parents soon did the same.

"Mrs Tsui, is this boy your son by any chance?"

"Yes, officer! He is!"

Peter was being hugged tightly by his mother in no time and found he was no match for the power of maternal love.

"How could you sneak out so late at night?! We thought you'd been kidnapped!"

"Mom...didn't you read my note? I left my textbook at a friend's house and had to get it back..."

"Why not wait until morning?!"

"Because it's Monday?"

"Oh, it is."

She let go of him and took some time to wipe away her tears while the other two males watched in disbelief.

"Next time, just tell us? Your father and I would be more than happy to drive you. No price is too big for education..."

* * *

Whatever had happened in the inn was but a distant memory when Peter attended school a week later as if nothing unusual had ever happened. He did what anyone hardworking student concerned about their future would do, and that was paying attention to the teacher while treating any upcoming exams as battles in which failure could be roughly equated to death itself.

A paper plane flew across the room and landed on his desk shortly after the bell rang to signal the start of lunchtime. He spotted part of a familiar character between the plane's wings and unfolded it in curiosity to discover a message that looked too good to be true.

_Kwok Jyu-Ling likes you. Go talk to her._

He put the plane down and turned to look hesitantly at Jillian while she hurriedly gathered up her books. He didn't feel ready yet to approach her by himself, let alone say what was really on his mind, so he ended up putting off the daunting task once again.

_"Maybe next week. I don't feel up to it today..."_


End file.
